


Beautiful Ones

by Tayani



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blindness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, POV Alternating, Post-Game, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-05 10:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16808833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tayani/pseuds/Tayani
Summary: Three years after the end of the game, Sae Niijima takes a trip out of town to check whether a rumor that the boy she thought was dead still lived was true.Three years after the end of the game, Akira Kurusu tries to deal with the loss of the person he once loved; a ghost he can't get rid of, no matter how hard he tries.Three years after the end of the game, Goro Akechi is still alive, though broken beyond recognition.Perhaps all it really took to heal them was just a little push.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this artwork: [【SPARK13 P5新刊】十九歳の誕生日（小説本） | ほくゆう](https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?illust_id=70955700&mode=medium)
> 
> thank you to c-a-f for finding it for me! You're amazing ^^

It was a nice, quiet place.

Sae supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. No matter what, this was _him_ they were talking about, after all, and _he_ has always enjoyed his little luxuries. Part of her wondered what _did_ she expect, really. A decrepit, forgotten sanatorium somewhere up a mountain?

To the contrary, this private clinic was a warm, sunny one. Situated just few meters from the beach, huge windows on the walls offered a beautiful view of the ever-changing waves. Several patients strolled around the corridors, some accompanied by nurses dressed in spotless uniforms. The place felt idyllic, peaceful. It was a place people came to in order to get better, rather than to die.

Sae shook her head, as if trying to shake off the strange thought. Her perfectly manicured hand rested on the shining counter of the reception desk; one nail beating out an insistent rhythm on the polished wood. The nurse had left her a while ago, asking her to wait as she goes and checks the patient’s condition before allowing her to visit him. Sae knew it was a delicate way of saying _I’ll go and ask if he wants to see you_.

She was prepared he won’t. Sae herself wasn’t certain what was she expecting, driving here on her day off, even going as far as to hide the trip from Makoto, telling her it was a drive to stake out their next family trip spot rather than a business one. For all she knew, she will be politely asked to leave, and never come back again. And she’d need to respect that. What proof did she have, after all? Nothing, but a hunch.

The nurse came back, and from her neutral face Sae couldn’t read what the answer would be. Finally, she slid back behind the counter and beamed in a practiced way at her, indicating the corridor she has just came from.

“Room 118, last door to the right. Visiting hours end at 4pm, so please be sure to check out at the front desk by that time.”

“…of course.” Sae breathed out in a way she wished wasn’t as relieved as it came out as. Slowly, she had made her way down the wide, brightly lit corridor. She reached the last door and rested her hand over the doorknob, before slowly turning it, pushing the door open.

Like the rest of the clinic, the room was light, with its big windows slid open to let in the sea breeze. It wasn’t decorated, even after the three years he has spent there. The only personal items seemed to be a phone – old, the one she still remembered – and a collection of various books, stacked neatly on the hospital shelves. There was a laptop open on the small desk in the corner; the white sheets on the pristine bed were made up, with no wrinkle on them.

Her eyes, up until now taking in the entirety of the room rested on its only inhabitant. Slowly, without a word, she stepped inside and closed the door. He looked at her evenly, not making a sound as she looked him over, taking it all in.

The wheelchair. The milky white now covering his once so vibrantly red eye. Stretches of pink, shiny scars covering the left side of his face and neck. The melted, ugly stub peeking from under his hair – everything that was left from where his ear once was.

“Sae-san.” he said, softly; a hint of a smile in his voice.

“Akechi.” she responded, still staring at him in shock.

* * *

“…can you not see at all?”

The tea in a plain-white mug warmed Sae’s hands as she curled them around the cup. She was seated on one of the simple chairs. Akechi had offered tea, and she accepted, out of shock and lack of things to say more than because of anything else.

The room was mostly silent as the boy she used to work with – used to care for – used to _hate_ after what he truly was came to light – busied himself making their tea. He moved around the room on his wheelchair with frightening ease that spoke to Sae, convinced her this was not some elaborate plot meant to make her feel bad for Akechi. He looked up from his own mug, before looking back once more as he stirred a spoonful of honey into his tea.

“My left eye? I can discern shadows, if it’s light out. During the night, I can’t see at all.”

“Can’t they… Will it ever…”

“I’m afraid my sight is impossible to be fully restored, Sae-san. I assure you it is much better now than it originally has been.”

Sae really couldn’t say what he was thinking, speaking in that matter-of-fact, polite voice – like the media darling she still remembered, presenting the facts to an anxious audience. As if it didn’t concern him at all.

She shouldn’t ask, she knew. There were more pressing matters – matters that needed to be settled, to be given answers to. And yet, some morbid curiosity made Sae press on.

“Your legs…”

“I am able to walk.” Akechi smiled at her again, turning now to face her fully, the identical, white cup in his hands. “Short distances; enough not to require too much assistance in my daily needs. It is extremely tiring and, after few minutes, also quite painful. I have been assured that, after few more months of rehabilitation, I should at least be able to stop using my wheelchair, although apparently most of my pain has causes in my psyche rather than physique.”

Another cold, plastic, eerie smile.

“I wonder if that will ever go away.”

Sae pressed her lips tightly together and looked away. Out of having nothing better to do, she pressed the edge of the cup to her lips, sucking in a sip of tea through her barely-open lips. She has come here today to confirm that the rumour she has stumbled upon in her work as an attorney – a whisper, nothing more – was false. That the ghost of Goro Akechi, the boy she has been assured was dead, disappeared for good.

She was not expecting to find him there.

She was not prepared for how broken he was.

Watching Akechi now, it felt like looking at pieces of broken bone sticking out of a wound. It was raw, unsettling and painful to see.

The silence stretched between them once more; it was Akechi who broke it next.

“I apologize for asking this, but I cannot help but be curious… how did you find me, Sae-san?”

“…after Shido’s death penalty has been enacted.” Sae said after a moment’s hesitation, feeling certain strange warmth in her heart when she saw that even just from that, Akechi’s one working eye shone with understanding. His wits were still intact, then. She continued anyway.

“I have been contacted by a certain law firm responsible for enacting Shido’s will. He had left everything that was left from the case to his only living next of kin – his son, but the clause of it had a rather strange wording; it required the funds to be sent to an existing fund on which most of the assets we were earlier unable to account for seemed to be transferred – transferred in a way that made them impossible for us to touch. I started to look into this fund once I became aware of it and with, erm, some help… discovered the funds there were being used for the last three years to pay for a room and care in this clinic. I thought this was a dead end, and yet…”

“And yet you couldn’t help but check. I congratulate you, Sae-san… even if I should probably commend Futaba-san as well, for hacking into that account so easily. I’m given to understand it has been fairly well protected.”

“I did not ask her for help, and she does not know of this account, as far as I’m aware. I felt it… unwise, to include any of the former Phantom Thieves in this. A contact from my younger days in the SIU helped me.” Sae explained, eyes watchful. She could not decide what Akechi’s face was showing. The way he sat there, unmoving, it showed nothing at all, really.

The silence that followed, however, was quite telling. Sae felt her lips twitch in a smile she only just managed to stop herself from showing. She knew _that_ face. Akechi was waiting.

“…they are all alright, from what Makoto tells me.” she said quietly. “Sakamoto has received a rather substantial sports scholarship in his last year of high school; he’s currently studying in Nagoya, and has taken up baseball as well as track and field. Ann Takamaki has spent some time abroad, but is currently newly back in Japan, settling in Tokyo for the time being. Makoto offered they share an apartment, since her police academy and the university Ann has enrolled into are fairly close. Yusuke Kitagawa has recently travelled to Kyoto for a national exhibition of finest young artists; Futaba-chan has finished high school early and is now waiting for a word from computer science school she is hoping to get into; and unofficially, I have heard of quite a few offers of work from the government she has turned down. Haru Okumura’s _Café d'étoiles_ brand has opened its fifth location in Tokyo last month.”

Sae fell silent, watching him. Akechi has been quiet, listening intently, with hidden desperation; hanging onto her every word until now. Once she was done, he looked up at her with his only good eye, silent plea in it; and then looked away once she didn’t oblige him, his face tightening.

“…why did you come here, Sae-san?” Akechi said quietly, not looking at her; guarded, impossible to read, as always. “What are you planning to do? I am a wanted criminal, I suppose.”

“You’re not, in fact.” Sae sighed, straightening back up. “Goro Akechi has been forgotten; charges against him dropped. Shido has confessed to everything, and never once mentioned your name in his testimony. Neither has Kurusu-kun.” she looked at him again, sharply, and thought she caught the slightest glint in his eye.

“As for what I am planning on doing… well. I am not on your case anymore. I am no longer a prosecutor. And… I do believe you have suffered enough for the sins you have committed, Akechi-kun. It is not my place to go throwing stones.” she shook her head. “I only want to know… _how_ …? I have heard what had happened that night. From multiple accounts. By all evidence, you should have died… you were believed to be dead, by all of us. And yet…”

“That,” Goro had said, finally looking her in the eye again. “Is something that is a mystery for both of us, Sae-san. I did not wish to survive; and I do not know how I did.”

There was silence for a while more; and then, finally, as Sae watched him, Akechi’s face allowed emotion to bleed into it. There was yearning there; there was desperation. And there was terrible, terrible tiredness.

“What had happened to _him,_ Sae-san..?” he said, quietly, with obvious difficulty. Sae sighed, taking another sip of her tea before starting to talk.

“Akira Kurusu, after his assault charges and probation was dropped, has been let out and travelled back to his hometown to finish his high school education there.” she said, quietly. “He has then returned to Tokyo, and is currently studying psychology; Makoto tells me he wishes to work as a child psychologist.”

“That’s something I can see him doing, yes.” Akechi smiled lightly – and it was the first genuine smile Sae has seen on him since coming here.

“…will you go back?”

“To Tokyo?” Akechi barked out a humourless laughter. “Please, Sae-san. There is nothing there for me.”

“What about Kurusu-kun?”

Akechi’s face was set; he didn’t reply. Sae sighed, standing up and setting her empty cup down on the little tea corner Akechi had there for himself. She hesitated, before saying, in a studiously even voice.

“…I have met with Makoto some week ago, you know. Apparently a young detective from the place she is doing her internship in has taken quite a liking to Kurusu-kun. They met at a bar Kurusu-kun works in, and seem to be getting along very well.”

“Do they.” Sae smiled lightly, though Akechi couldn’t have seen this. She heard the strain in his voice.

“Yes… he’s a nice young man, apparently. Makoto told me the former Phantom Thieves are all hoping they will get together. Akira has mourned for three years, after all; they think it’s a time he moved on.”

“… _do they_.” Akechi said, quietly, in a forcibly calm way. “Well, they are right, aren’t they? It’s no use being hung up on a _ghost_.”

“I suppose.” Sae said, brushing non-existent dust off her shoulder. “Kurusu-kun seems to have troubles, though. I suppose if a ghost _did_ appear, all of a sudden… who knew what could happen?”

There was only silence behind her; and though she still had hope her words managed to stir the hurt, broken boy sitting on a wheelchair behind her, Sae really couldn’t say. With a sigh, she opened the door.

“He’s still living at Leblanc’s attic, if you needed the information. He works there, too.”

“…goodbye, Sae-san.”

She sighed softly, shaking her head.

“Goodbye, Akechi-kun. It was… good to see you, despite everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you like my stories, you can find me on twitter [@mikan_writings](https://twitter.com/mikan_writings) and/or tumblr at [mikan_writings](https://mikan-writings.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Next update on December 6th
> 
> EDIT: Mayo drew [ this beautiful piece](https://twitter.com/iincos/status/1069056350661931008?s=20) for this story, go check it out!


	2. Chapter 2

Rain rarely fell in Tokyo in November; and yet today, it was falling insistently, right from the morning.

Most of the Phantom Thieves had contacted Akira already by the time the evening fell – asking, some more and some less obvious in their concern, whether he was doing okay. Sojiro appeared briefly in the morning to make sure he ate; even Futaba came to visit him at the café instead of just texting. Akira smiled, shook the concern off and pretended he was perfectly fine.

He had to wait until evening for them to finally leave him alone, so that he could make the cup of coffee the way _he_ had always liked it best and set it in front of the first seat by the bookshelf, looking at the empty place for a little while before sighing and going back to washing the dishes.

“…you know it’s kind of pointless, doing that every year, right? You’ll only feel worse. I bet you’ll have another nightmare today, and I don’t appreciate being treated like a comfort animal every time that happens.”

Akira looked to the side, slight annoyance shining through his tired expression.

“Get off my case, Morgana. I don’t need your lectures, too. Just let me do my thing in peace. It’s just a coffee. I’ll pay Sojiro for it, and anyway, he always does the same thing for Wakaba-san.”

“It’s different.” Morgana said, hopping onto the counter; and hissing when Akira pushed him off of it, before getting down to wiping the already perfectly polished wood. Besides the two of them, there was no one in the café – what regulars stopped by during the uncharacteristically rainy weather, already went home.

It was the anniversary – third one, to the day – of them securing the infiltration route to Shido’s Palace. Akira refused to call it anything else in his head, even as every year, he spent that day quiet and brooding, with a single cup of coffee waiting in front of a single chair – for a man who will never again sit in it, drink it, smile at him and thank him for the drink.

Leblanc didn’t change over these three years. Akira still remembered joking how everything looked the same after he had returned here, having finished high school and being accepted into a nearby university. Sojiro offered him a room to stay in his house, but Akira insisted he’ll return to his attic – refurnished now and quite comfortable, not to mention quiet and private – or as private as living with Morgana could allow it to be.

Studying, working an array of part-time jobs and occasionally meeting with his old friends was a pleasant respite from the still boredom of his hometown; but Tokyo proved to be filled with memories and ghosts as well as friends. And one of them was sitting, unseen, on his old seat; smiling his old smile.

It made Akira’s heart ache in his chest, but it was a strangely satisfying pain. All of his friends acted like he would have been better off forgetting, giving up – as if it was this simple. As if they could ever come close to understanding how terrified Akira was of forgetting.

The little bell by the door rang, pulling Akira’s attention to the door and away from his thoughts. Someone has stumbled inside of the café, folding a rather large, black umbrella; and then two smiling eyes looked at him from over it, warm and happy to see him.

“Oh… Kurusu-kun!”

“Welcome, Kobayashi-san.” 

Akira smiled back after a moment’s hesitation. He recognized the man; they had talked quite a lot over the counter of Crossroads bar ever since Akira had started working there regularly. Kobayashi was a tall man, with dark, tidy hair and kind, brown eyes that smiled every time he looked at him in a disarmingly honest, open fashion. He had high cheekbones, always dressed in a suit and was one of the more talented young detectives at the place Makoto has been doing her internship at; and perhaps, a better person than Akira would have fallen for him just based on that.

Perhaps a better person than Akira would have also had the guts to tell the young man who was obviously hitting on him this will not work out well, one way or the other.

“Did you follow me in here?” Akira asked jokingly, shaking off the unwelcome thoughts for now and smiling; though his smile tightened as he saw Kobayashi move towards the seat with the coffee cup.

“Not here.” he said, sharply, before blinking and flushing slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… I’m sorry, I just… this seat, it’s… the coffee is already cold, anyway. I’ll make you another one.”

Kind, chocolate-brown eyes narrowed in slight concern rather than anger, and Akira turned away from them as Kobayashi sat down on a different seat, looking from the cold coffee to Akira, who was preparing him a fresh cup.

“I apologize.” he said quietly, and Akira sighed, shaking his head with a smile.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” he murmured.

“Perhaps I do.” Kobayashi smiled his disarming smile and leaned against the counter. “To answer your question, Kurusu-kun, I did not _technically_ follow you here, no.”

“No, but Makoto told you where else I work, didn’t she.” Akira raised an eyebrow, setting a cup of coffee in front of the other and leaning a bit back; feeling more amused than annoyed. “She worries too much.”

“I will neither deny nor confirm anything, and all your evidence is circumstantial.” Kobayashi grinned.

“All of you law-majors are just unable to switch off your inner lawyers, aren’t you.”

“Proud alumni of police academy here, Kurusu-kun, you’re confusing the two.”

“ _And_ a proud student of law.” Akira’s smirk finally broke onto his lips as he chuckled, crossing his arms.

“Ah, so you _do_ really listen to me.” Kobayashi smiled again, and Akira rolled his eyes at him. For a moment, they sat there in silence; with the detective simply sipping his coffee and complimenting its taste, while stealing slow, curious glances around the café. Finally, Akira spoke again; though hesitantly, his words careful.

“…Kobayashi-san,” he said quietly. “Why did you come here tonight? I thought you don’t usually drink coffee.”

“…and I don’t usually drink alcohol, and yet I’ve been frequenting Crossroads as of late.” the detective let out a somewhat awkward laugh; though his eyes were soft, searching as he looked up at Akira. “…you know why I’m here, Kurusu-kun. I only wonder… is it unwelcome? Forgive me from assuming, but… I was under the impression you enjoy my company, as well. If I’m wrong, then…”

“You’re… not wrong.” Akira murmured, looking away. He could see Morgana watching them from the corner and frowned at the cat, who rolled his eyes, but obediently marched towards the stairs, in order to at least pretend he’s going to leave them alone. Kobayashi beamed at him, and Akira sighed, shaking his head lightly.

“…you’re not totally right, either. Kobayashi-san, I… I do enjoy your company. I really do. I just… am not sure I am looking for someone who… what you’re hoping for, I’m not sure if…”

“Ah…” Kobayashi cut him off quietly. He had nice hands, Akira noted, as they curled carefully around the warm cup. And then, Kobayashi looked to the side; at the empty spot beside him. “Does it have anything to do with whomever you have prepared this coffee for, Kurusu-kun?”

_Why is it, that it just has to be a detective every time?_

Akira sighed and slowly set down the cloth he has picked up just a second before – in order to wipe the counter once again or just have something to fiddle in his hands, he wasn’t sure. Slowly, he nodded, looking at the cold coffee by the bookshelf.

“…is he someone you’re waiting for?”

“He’s… he used to be.” Akira shook his head softly.

_He’s dead. Just say it. He’s dead._

“He’s no longer around.” he said, finally; and startled when Kobayashi reached out a warm, gentle hand, resting it carefully over Akira’s. It wasn’t… overbearing. It wasn’t romantic. It was comforting and friendly, and oh, how Akira wished he could take comfort from a warm, sympathetic touch like this.

“I’m sorry.” Kobayashi said quietly, taking his hand away. Akira let out a little snort.

“You’re possibly the only person I know who offered their condolences today rather than trying to convince me I should stop being hung up over this and move on with my life, you know.”

“I don’t think it’s as simple as moving on.” Kobayashi shrugged, looking back into his coffee. “People we care about, they leave marks. Sometimes these marks are good; sometimes they’re bad, sometimes they’re painful and sometimes they’re soothing. It’s not my place to tell you to discard something as precious as this, just because your personal mourning takes more time than other people’s around you. If my… _attention_ has been taken as disrespect to the memory of your—”

“It wasn’t. You didn’t know. And… really, I’m a bit surprised you… respect that. Thank you.” Akira smiled awkwardly, a hint of blush spreading over his cheeks. He looked back down; and saw these chocolate eyes look back at him again, smiling and calm and understanding; and all of a sudden, he knew.

“…it happened to you, too, didn’t it. Something like that.”

“…not like this. I lost my sister, back when I was in middle school.” Kobayashi’s smile saddened, and he looked back down into his coffee. It was Akira’s turn to reach his hand out.

“…I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” the detective nodded. “It… never really goes away. I understand that. But also… Kurusu-kun, if—”

“Look…” Akira smiled, moving away and picking up the rag once more, starting to wipe an already pristinely clear glass. “You can just as well start calling me Akira. Everyone else does.”

“…very well. Then please, call me Shio, Akira.” Kobayashi smiled at him again, and then cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is… I like you, Akira. I am quite certain I have never met a person as beautiful and as interesting and witty and kind as you. I like you very much, however… if this is not something you’re able to do at the moment… or ever, I will understand that. I think… it’s fair if we’re both open about these things.”

“Communication. Nice, that’s… very refreshing.” Akira chuckled, feeling his cheeks burn. He looked at Shio again; watching him, waiting for his answer.

 _…this really is the kind of person I wish could love_.

“It’s… it’s not something I can do right now.” Akira whispered, biting his lip. “It’s not that I hate you. It’s the contrary, I… I really like you, I do. I just… I don’t think it’s fair to give you hope when I’m still in love with someone else, Shio. I’m sorry. I… really, all I can offer to you is friendship, but I… _really_ don’t want to put you in _that_ kind of situation, so…”

Kobayashi nodded; he didn’t look hurt, or disappointed. More like… sad. And also, Akira saw, hopeful.

“…I understand.” he said quietly. “I also notice you’ve said… _right now_. Does it mean I’m allowed to try? Does it mean… I can stop by again, by Crossroads, or here… and talk with you… and perhaps, one day, you might…”

“I can’t promise it’ll ever happen.” Akira shook his head. Shio smiled back at him.

“I understand that. I understand I might get burnt. But… if it was my decision, to keep trying, even after what you’ve told me. Will it not make you uncomfortable?”

“…no, it won’t, but… You did hear what I just said, right? I… I can only promise you friendship. That’s all.” Akira murmured, after a long moment.

“Alright then.” Kobayashi said, before leaning back, taking a deep breath as he grinned up at the ceiling. “Well… I think I should order another cup. And perhaps you can tell me more about what you’re studying right now; it’s always just me talking at the Crossroads…”

* * *

Weeks passed, and Akira felt his life was becoming both more chaotic and confusing, and more calm and stable all at once, even if it didn’t make any sense. Shio kept visiting – sometimes just once a week, and sometimes every day, depending how often their schedules intertwined. Akira tried his best not to give him hope; but it didn’t seem to work. Or more like… it didn’t seem to matter.

 _“…do you hate us spending time together like this?”_ Kobayashi asked him once, and Akira couldn’t help but disagree; and yet…

“I don’t get what you’re all on defence about.” Morgana scoffed, jumping onto Akira’s chest. The winter was passing. It was late February, and they had spent most of Akira’s rare free day walking together under the blooming plum trees, with Akira letting Morgana ride on his head so that he could paw at the flowers on the low-hanging branches they passed under. Now, the raven was lazing about in his room, waiting for the muse to strike him and do homework, and really did not appreciate another lecture.

“What I’m on defence about is that I don’t feel comfortable leading on a guy whom I know I won’t ever be with.” Akira huffed, poking Morgana’s nose.

“You’re not leading him on, he said he doesn’t mind, does he? And why can’t you give him a chance? That Shio guy’s been nothing but nice to you the last few months, and he’s not giving up. He’s better than Akechi no matter how you look—”

Morgana quieted down. All it took was one look on Akira’s face for him to sit up and look away, tail waving nervously behind him.

“…I’m sorry.” the cat murmured, and then, when there was no response from Akira, jumped down from the bed and onto the chair, looking at him worriedly. “Akira, seriously, I didn’t mean… it came out wrong, it was a stupid thing to say.”

“…yep. It was.” Akira said quietly and turned back on the bed. “…I’ll ask Shio to stop visiting today. It’s better to just end this. I can’t… it doesn’t feel right, and it doesn’t feel fair towards him, either.”

“Uh…” Morgana sighed, shaking his head. “…fine. Just… don’t do something you’ll regret, Akira.”

* * *

Sojiro had left; and Akira was wiping the counter again when Kobayashi came in, the bell over the door ringing merrily as he entered, smile on his face and these chocolate eyes crinkling with laughter.

“Welcome.” Akira smiled, a somewhat strained smile; though if the detective noticed it, he didn’t comment.

“Hello, Akira.” he smiled back, sliding onto his usual seat. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I had to stay behind on a case; it’s a really interesting one, finally! I mean, I probably shouldn’t be too happy, it’s never good when my cases are interesting… Good for others, I mean.” Kobayashi chuckled slightly, the tips of his ears turning pink. Akira felt his smile soften and reached towards the shelves, pulling out Shio’s favourite blend of coffee.

“Shouldn’t you be keeping your cases a secret anyway, Shio? You’ll get in trouble if you start gossiping about them to baristas you meet at cafés.” Akira joked, starting on the detective’s coffee. Shio simply smiled at him.

“Oh, I only tell my secrets to one barista, so if something comes out, I’ll know who was the sneak.” he winked, and Akira wished that didn’t make him smile.

But he did smile; and laugh, and talk with Shio easily over coffee, like they always did. Every time Akira tried to bring himself to ask the detective if they could talk, seriously, about what was this between them, he found himself unable to do so. Both because it felt _wrong_ to wipe the smile off Kobayashi’s face and because the detective always picked that moment to start another funny story or ask him another question.

It was easy; to just go with a flow. To let himself to relax and smile and lean against the counter, and look into Kobayashi’s chocolate-brown eyes that had so much warmth in them. Especially since, no matter his personal hang-ups and desires, Akira didn’t lie when he said he really liked the young detective. He knew he will miss him, once they stop meeting like this; he knew that, were the circumstances different, he would have been happy to let Shio into his heart and into his arms.

Sometimes, Akira wondered why on earth would he let someone like him go, and couldn’t find a reason; and got angry at the ghost still sitting on his old seat, for how it continued to haunt him.

The hour he was supposed to close Leblanc at came before they knew it, and Akira went out from behind the counter to flip the sign. He was still laughing from the last thing Shio had told him, when he felt his foot hit the leg of one of the stools, and all of a sudden, Akira gasped as he was falling forward.

“Whoa there, careful…”

Warm arms caught him, holding him up. There was laughter in Shio’s voice as he helped stabilize him, and Akira felt himself grow dizzy. They were close; their noses almost touching, and Shio was so _warm_ ; he smelt clean and pleasant, and without meaning to, Akira’s eyes darted down, to his still-laughing lips…

Lips that, next moment, pressed against his own in the softest, sweetest kiss. Akira felt his breath catch and his eyes flutter closed as he leaned in, all thoughts wiped away from his mind, because, ah… after three years of misery, to be held, to be loved, to be kissed and cared for, it felt just too good to deny himself.

And then, the reality of just what he was doing caught up with Akira’s suddenly blank mind, and he gasped and pushed Shio away from himself, breathing heavy, as if he had just ran a marathon. Kobayashi looked at him with wide, confused eyes that quickly turned to realization, his cheeks stained dark red.

“Akira, I… I’m sorry… you… I misunderstood, I shouldn’t have…”

“You should go, Shio.” Akira said quietly, closing his eyes, because it felt that if he keeps them open, he’ll start to cry. His lips still tingled; for just a moment, it felt good. It felt so good, to be kissed again, by someone warm and caring and gentle. But then, the memories flooded back; and Akira felt cold, shaken and confused; and most of all, completely and utterly miserable.

Kobayashi stood there, wordlessly; and then, he sighed and nodded, coming just a bit closer.

“I’m sorry.” Akira said, in a small voice, looking up at him. “I really… don’t think we can be just friends.” ,

“I’m sorry, too.” the detective said, quietly, and in his eyes Akira saw he wasn’t angry, or frustrated with him. He was just… sad. Like back then. Sad, but understanding.

“Shio… you’re a wonderful person. I hope you find someone who makes you happy.” Akira found himself whispering. Meaningless words; both of them knew that.

“Don’t say something like that, you idiot. That’s just cruel.” Kobayashi smiled sadly and reached his hand out, gently brushing a tuft of Akira’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. “…goodbye, Akira.”

He watched him leave; watched the door open and close. Akira sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned back against the counter, gripping at it tightly for support; and then, his hand curled into a fist and he hit the hard, polished surface of the counter, again and again, until the pain finally made him feel even slightly better. Akira could feel tears sting at the corners of his eyes as he looked to the side, at the forever-empty seat.

“…what is _wrong_ with me…” he whispered to himself, rubbing away his tears as he slowly slid to the ground, covering his face with his hands.

“What the hell is wrong with me…?”

How much time had passed? Akira wasn’t sure. He was never good at telling how long was he crying for. He was still wiping away his tears, however, when he heard the bell by the door ring once more; and said angrily, without looking, annoyed that he had forgotten to flip the damn sign.

“We’re _closed_.”

“Ah… that’s a pity.” The voice was soft, quiet. “I was looking forward to a cup of Leblanc’s coffee tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you like my stories, you can find me on twitter [@mikan_writings](https://twitter.com/mikan_writings) and/or tumblr at [mikan_writings](https://mikan-writings.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Next update on December 10th
> 
> PS: Whoever finds and gets the easter egg gets a cookie


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Certain events in this chapter inspired by [this art :)](https://twitter.com/makarakaja/status/944378250372947968?s=20)

Two shots resounded, and Goro felt terrible, overwhelming pain tear through his abdomen and chest as blood gushed from the rip in his outfit. He saw the warped puppet of himself crumble and fall, disappearing in the cloud of black, and felt last, wild wave of satisfaction before closing his eyes.

 _Oh, you have got to be joking_.

His body seized, and he was jumping up; clawing and grasping at the metal ledge up above, where the Shadows gathered around them couldn’t reach him, couldn’t see him, lost in the darkness. Goro cursed quietly, a shuddering hand clutching at his wound. He was still bleeding heavily, but as he tried to close his eyes again and just _die_ , the voice in his mind spoke to him again.

_I’m not letting you end this in such a boring way, boy._

Goro opened his eyes and grimaced, staring at the white-black, twisted figure that was there, deep inside of him; a forever companion, or rather just a simple image of himself. His other self; his Persona.

His Persona, that was currently being a stubborn ass.

Still, he knew better than to argue; and was too weak to, anyway. His hands groped blindly, desperately now; through empty pockets, searching for medicine, a scrap of food, _anything_ …

His clawed hand clasped around a vial; and Goro stilled, bringing it to his half-broken mask to inspect. In his flowing vision, the liquid looked almost ridiculously bright; and he recognized the neat, careful writing on the label.

Unbidden, the memory entered his mind. How Akira had pulled him to the side at the casino; how their lips pressed together, soft, sweet, fleeting, like a gentle promise, despite the bitter taste of betrayal rising like bile in Goro’s throat as he saw the sweet, loving look Akira looked at him with, even then, even though he _knew_ …

_Get them out of here, Crow. You need to get them out of here safely, alright? Here… in case you need these. That’s all the healing items I have, I’ll just leave some drinks for myself. Stop arguing with me, we don’t have time!_

He kissed him again then, just to shut him up. Goro smiled bitterly and bit the cap off of the small vial, downing it in one go. Immediately, a pleasant wave of warmth washed over him. He could feel his bleeding stop; his wound slowly, painstakingly starting to knit close.

 _At least I kept my promise, Joker_ , he thought, just as the darkness started to take hold of him, and his head fell back, his heavy helmet bumping against the hard metal of the beam he was laying on.

 _Now let’s just hope you keep yours_ …

* * *

The beam shook, and Goro jerked awake; and were it not for Loki’s and Robin Hood’s silent vigil over him, he would have fallen down to his death from it, no doubt.

How much time had passed, he wasn’t sure. His insides twisted and turned in hunger, and his mouth was completely dry, so it had to at least be some hours. Goro looked down at his stomach and frowned when he saw… nothing there. A rip in his outfit, nothing more.

As far as he knew, no medicine Akira could have given him could possibly have healed him this fast and this well.

The beam shook violently again, and Goro decided he will have time to wonder about it later. He stood up, wobbling slightly to his feet, and located his best bet for a route out of this metal trap he has locked himself into. His muscles hurt, and his head spun from hunger, thirst and exhaustion; all of his thoughts limited to just the one.

 _I need to get out of here_.

The ventilation shaft he has noticed was small and it stunk, badly, but that didn’t matter; it was a way out, and out he went, ignoring the sounds of explosions ringing in his ears, ignoring the shaking and tilting of the shaft he was stuck in, crawling, desperately, towards freedom.

Finally, he saw a crate blocking his exit and kicked it out of the way, taking long, desperate gasps of air. He heard screams, and for a second, stilled in terror that someone – the Phantom Thieves? Yes, he could recognize their voices – had seen him, noticed him. But no; as the smoke cleared away somewhat, he saw the silhouette of Sakamoto hanging ridiculously right in front of him from a piece of scrap metal. The Phantom Thieves yelled again, begging him to jump, to join them; why wasn’t the moron moving?

Once again, Goro’s body seized up; though which one of his Personas moved it this time, he wasn’t sure. They were keeping remarkably quiet. He jumped, and the world exploded around him; his body collided with Skull’s, propelling him towards the way out of the Metaverse, and Goro felt searing pain and incredible, _painful_ brightness assaulting his one, unprotected eye; and then everything was just pain, and agony, and blackness.

* * *

There were beeping noises all around him; and in the distance, the sounds of two people arguing. He was in so much pain, Goro wanted to scream; but his throat was too parched to make a sound.

Ridiculously, he wondered if he was back at the orphanage; and the caretakers are arguing about who’s going to take the blame for his injuries. Who was the one that beat him this time, he wondered briefly, and then the memories came flashing back. Goro struggled to open his eyes; and found that opening his left one was impossible, they had covered it with gauze. All left side of his body burnt terribly, and he tried to get a look around the room he was laying in, but to no avail. Everything was too bright, too stark-white, too loud, too _painful_ …

His eye closed once more, and his mind – unable to take the strain for much longer – drifted back into soft, numb blackness.

* * *

This time, the first thing he had heard was the sound of waves.

As he gradually floated into consciousness, Goro’s mind drifted to the orphanage once more. Had they gone on a trip…? He didn’t remember them going out on a trip before; and anyway, why would he go with the other children, wasn’t he an adult now…?

Goro’s eyes snapped open as once more, the engine room, the blast, the pain – memories of it all came back to him. His body felt… strangely heavy and weak, he could barely lift a finger, and moreover…

Someone had put another gauze over his left eye. He could open it now, but he could barely see anything. He tried to move; tried to get the annoying gauze off, he couldn’t see properly with it on and all of a sudden, this was the only thing that mattered. His hand slowly, shakily rose up – had his hands always been this skeletal? and where were his gloves? – and clawed over his face.

Goro froze, slowly dragging his fingertips over it, again and again, and again once more.

There was no gauze. There was nothing obstructing his left eye from view. And yet…

His breathing turned into heavy pants; a chant of _no no no no no_ resounding in his head. Goro slid his fingers over his face, again and again.

The right side of it was okay; thin, he was skin and bones, but that was alright, he didn’t care, this could be remedied. But the left… There was nothing but slick, disgusting stretches of scar tissue, weirdly sensitive to touch. His eye… he could feel it open and close, and yet it made no difference. He couldn’t see. The place where his left ear once was now felt slick and grotesquely small; a little stub surrounding his earhole.

“Ah… You’re awake! Doctor… doctor! Akechi-san has woken up!”

Goro felt his hand fall down, flatly, onto the hospital bed he was laying in. He didn’t have the strength to keep checking for more injuries; and he didn’t have the strength to be alive anymore. He closed his eyes, praying for death, praying for at least _sleep_ to take him again, take him and never let him wake up; and even as he felt people shuffle into the room, he kept his eyes closed. Like this, with both of them shut, he could at least pretend… maybe all of this was just a bad dream, after all… and tomorrow, he will wake up; clutching onto Akira and shaking as the raven stroked his hair and kissed the nightmare away.

This was all just a nightmare; he will wake up soon enough, he knew it.

* * *

After Sae’s visit, Goro spent a long time sat in his wheelchair by the window, watching his former co-worker’s car as it disappeared down the road, the woman never turning back.

The last three years – or two, as Goro had spent most of the first one undergoing one surgery after the other and in a coma broken up by short periods of consciousness – went by in the blink of an eye. Time was a curious thing in this lonely clinic on the edge of a tiny town on the coast; quiet and peaceful.

It took Goro a long time to come to terms with his disgusting new look and his disability. There were mornings when he woke up, hoping that this time, he’ll see the world through both of his eyes; there were days when he’d stand up from the bed and walk a few steps before the searing pain made him fall down and curl up on the floor, crawling towards his wheelchair, refusing to call for help.

Despair towards these new circumstances faded away with time, though; and numb, silent resignation took its place. Goro didn’t need much in this new life. He did everything the staff asked him to; ate, exercised, went out into the garden to sit in the sun. Apart from that, he read a lot, wrote on his laptop and wrote letters – all of which always ended up crumpled up and thrown into the paper bin, or torn to shreds in their envelopes.

From bits and pieces – and mostly from a suitcase he had found upon finally being able to wake up fully, which contained some of his clothes, his laptop, phone, tattered teddy bear, an old picture of a woman looking remarkably like him and a folder with all the documents he will need and information about a certain bank account having been opened in his name – Goro pieced together how did he get there. He didn’t need to wonder what made Shido suddenly care about his son’s well-being; he knew that. The rare newspaper he would spot in the common area for the residents of the clinic sometimes became too much of a temptation to avoid, and from newspapers like these Goro found out about his father’s confession; his trial; his death.

Goro supposed he should be happy – this was what he wanted, what he had always wanted. And yet, there was no joy in his heart at the news. There was just numb, quiet resignation. It seemed that his heart, which has been tormented by uncontrollable emotions for so long, finally grew unable to feel anything anymore. Goro has resigned himself to living out his days in this quiet prison; dying peacefully, once he will be finally allowed to die.

Sae’s visit has shaken him up, yes, that was true. When one of the nurses came to his room and told him an old acquaintance came to visit, Goro was so stunned he couldn’t even think of anything to say to refuse seeing her. And there she was, a ghost from the past. Bearing questions, information and _hope_.

The moment Sae had mentioned Akira Kurusu’s name, Goro felt his heart hammer in his chest for the first time in years. He felt emotions seeping through; and not just the subdued, brief emotions he has sometimes felt a pang of. It felt like walking outside his peaceful shell and right into a storm; and it took him hours to sort through everything Sae had told him; and everything it made him feel.

So everyone went on with their lives, then, he thought, the faces of the former Phantom Thieves slowly flashing through his mind. It seemed all of them did fairly well for themselves. And Akira…

_He’s still living at Leblanc’s attic._

Goro sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wheelchair. He still lives at Leblanc’s attic, apparently going out with another young detective. Well, good for him. Goro smiled bitterly, his hand once more raising up, like after that first awakening. He has seen Sae’s reaction to seeing him. Even if he _did_ return – what did it matter? Akira didn’t deserve someone broken, twisted, _evil_ like him. He deserved someone _whole_ – someone who’d take care of him, someone who’d make him happy…

_But he doesn’t want just someone, does he? He wants you. Just as much as you want him, and no one else._

Goro closed his eyes again and gave Loki a mental kick. He wished he could do so physically, too, if only for the stubborn Persona to shut up. While Robin Hood kept silent most of the time, Loki was getting bored lately; and more talkative for that.

No, he was being ridiculous. Goro shook his head, rolling his wheelchair slowly away from the window. It was almost November; soon, it will grow cold and dark, and Akira didn’t need any more ghosts coming to pay him a visit. Goro was better off here, fading into nothingness without bothering anyone. Sae-san may have thought she was giving him a treat, with that childish attempt at manipulation; but Goro really didn’t know what she thought to achieve by this.

_In other words, burns and blindness aside, it would be awkward to meet him sitting on a wheelchair, wouldn’t it?_

Loki chimed mockingly in his mind, and Goro tightened his jaw, telling him to shut up. And then, he sighed and picked up the phone, set on the nightstand by his bed, dialling the reception desk.

“Aso-san, good afternoon… I was wondering, are the slots for rehabilitation I have been offered last month still available..? Ah… yes, yes of course. Yes. Thank you. I will wait for the first session, then.”

_Do you think he’s pretty? The young detective your boyfriend’s seeing right now. We could have some fun again. I wonder if it counts for human romance if you kill the other guy to win your lover’s affection…_

“I think I told you to shut up.” Goro snarled quietly, carefully raising from his wheelchair and falling onto the bed, trying not to think. He was better not thinking about this; he was better not doing anything at all.

 _I think it’s time I forbade you from dying one more time, boy_.

Goro shuddered, Loki’s whisper in his heart insistent like the buzzing of a fly.

“I’m not dying.”

_Yes, you are. I have seen you kill yourself slowly in this place for years now. And now that you have your will to live back…_

Goro sighed. _A will to live_ … huh. He wondered if he really had one anymore.

* * *

February has come by the time Goro had finally managed to bring himself to book a trip to Tokyo. With a one-way bus, no less. It wasn’t because he thought of staying – of course not, that would have been preposterous – but because he knew he will not be able to enter Leblanc on his first try.

And he decided, beyond all excuses and doubts, that no matter what, the moment he will be able to leave the blasted wheelchair for good, he will go visit Akira – and apologize.

He owed him this much, at least. It was only fair.

Crutches weren’t a big improvement over his wheelchair, Goro decided, but he couldn’t bring himself to care no more than he could bring himself to put off the visit any longer. He had boarded the bus, with a single bag slung over his shoulder – he’ll buy all he might need there, he needed new clothes anyway – and took off, arriving in Tokyo later that same day and finding a small, but pleasant and clean hotel near Shibuya station, close enough he could walk to it on his crutches.

The first day he spent hiding in his room; the familiarity of the place bringing too many demons, too many memories with itself. All the time, he feared he will be recognized; or bump into one of the former Phantom Thieves, or worse – into Akira. The second day wasn’t much better. Goro managed to board the train, but the Yongen-Jaya stop came and passed, and he was unable to get out. Certainly, that was because of the crowd – it’s not easy to go around on crutches, after all, not to mention leave a crowded train on them.

Goro came back to his hotel that day feeling defeated.

He should get a gift, he realized, and spent the next morning looking for one; unable to find one that wouldn’t feel cheap, or too much, or like an excuse for three years of silence, of allowing Akira to believe he was dead. What was he even doing? He would have been better off – they both would have, really – if he had just returned to the clinic and rot there.

It took not just Loki, but Robin Hood, too, calling him a coward for the brunet to curse and board the train, getting out at the right station this time.

The air of nostalgia hit him, hard. Yongen-Jaya hadn’t changed one bit. Even now, even with just one eye and on crutches, his legs carried him through the dirty, quiet evening alleyways almost by themselves. Goro inched closer and closer; he could see Leblanc now, could see the inviting light.

He saw people inside, and hid opposite the entrance; by the small wall where the laundromats and the bathhouse were. The sight of the familiar figure behind the counter made Goro lean heavily against the cold wall; his vision blurred with tears.

He hadn’t changed one bit, if what he saw through the murky glass of the door was any indication. Akira looked just the same; the same messy hair, the same silver eyes, the same lanky, tall figure. He held himself a bit straighter now, and his face lost what baby fat it once had. Akira became a handsome man; which would explain, perhaps, why his only client was looking at him like that – like he was looking at a beautiful work of art.

Goro tore his eye away from Akira, looking at the man accompanying him. He was handsome, too; tall, tidy, with high cheekbones and warm, open expression on face. He was saying something; and Akira leaned towards him over the counter, smiling, laughing helplessly. Goro felt his heart clench; his hand rising, fingertips brushing over his scars. He felt sick; _disgusting_ , that was what he was. Goro raised his eye again to look at the scene. Akira was walking from behind the counter, and the other man caught him into an embrace. They stilled for a moment, still smiling; and then, feeling he should look away, feeling he was spying on something private, something intimate, Goro watched them kiss.

The pain shooting through his heart clashed with the numb feeling that seemed to once more fill every fibre of his being. Goro rested his head against the wall, unable to look away.

Well, really, what was he thinking? He had left Akira alone, without a sign, without a word, for three years. With how beautiful he was, wasn’t it natural Akira would find someone? Someone who looked at him with this much affection; has Goro ever looked at the raven this way, allowed him to see how much he adored him, how much he envied him, how much he _loved him_?

Akira was better off like this. And Goro was better off being forgotten, only…

Seeing Akira push the man away reignited the spark that seemed to have went out just before. And then; ah, how Goro wished he could hear what the two have been talking about. He could only see sadness; a goodbye. And then, the other man leaving and Akira leaning back against the counter, hitting it, his face scrunched in pain.

What had happened…? Could it… did they really…?

Slowly, his previous resolve to leave forgotten, Goro leaned back on his crutches, slowly dragging himself to the door. His hand rested on the doorknob; and he hesitated again. Behind the glass door, Akira was crying. Tears streamed down his cheeks, into his hands that had a hard time keeping up with wiping them all away. Goro felt pain of a different kind shoot through his heart and pressed on the doorknob.

This was the first time he has seen Akira cry. He didn’t care if the raven will get angry; if he will hit him, tell him to get out, yell at him. Anything; anything would be better than this.

Anything at all.

“We’re _closed_.” he heard Akira snarl, still wiping his tears off and not looking at him. Goro leaned a bit off his crutches and looked to the left, wishing he could make Akira just… not see. Not see his other side; not see how broken he was. Even just for a little more…

“Ah… that’s a pity,” he said, quietly. “I was looking forward to a cup of Leblanc’s coffee tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you like my stories, you can find me on twitter [@mikan_writings](https://twitter.com/mikan_writings) and/or tumblr at [mikan_writings](https://mikan-writings.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Next update on December 13th


	4. Chapter 4

Akira froze; the voice he knew he had no reason to be hearing right now ringing in his ears. For a moment, he sat there, unmoving, hardly daring to breathe – and then, his eyes rose up, looking at the man who had just entered Leblanc.

 _He had changed_ was, ridiculously, the first thought Akira fully focused on after seeing him. Goro has changed in the three years he was presumed dead. He was thinner; the pleasant, young look his face once had was gone. He was all sharp edges and high cheekbones now, and there was no forced smile on his face. He was standing in a strange way, with his side facing Akira, as if he wanted to look at the booths, but his only visible eye was focused on him, wary, searching.

Slowly, as if he was afraid moving too fast might break him out of this dream, Akira stood up and took a hesitant step towards Goro, eyes never leaving his face. He couldn’t believe it; this _couldn’t_ be real, it couldn’t be. He was surely just seeing things…

His hand reached out; fingertips brushing down the soft material of Goro’s coat; and the breath Akira didn’t know he was holding escaped him now as he stumbled back, staring, unable to comprehend this.

“Goro…” he whispered, not sure how should he be feeling, how should he react. His mind was racing and feeling completely blank at the same time. His voice felt almost _pleading_. God, if this was a dream after all…

“It’s… been a while, Akira.” Goro replied with quiet, careful words, and out of the jumble of emotion, Akira felt anger come definitely to the forefront.

“…you _think_?” he snarled, letting out a snort of humourless laughter. He saw Goro flinch at that, leaning even further away from him. Why was he standing so weirdly? Akira didn’t care for now, his hands curling up into fists.

“Three years, Goro.” he said, voice shaking with anger. “Three _fucking years_. What the hell… do you have _any idea_ … god, I… I thought you were _dead_! We all did! How…”

“…I was supposed to be.” Goro said, voice quiet, weak. “I didn’t…”

“And now you waltz right back in here, as if nothing had happened! As if you could just… come right back in, order coffee, as if…”

“I didn’t want to force myself onto—”

“Oh _give me a break_.” Akira snarled again, stepping closer to the brunet. He felt tears sting his eyes again, but that didn’t matter. Not now. “Was I really… what we had, was it really just nothing to you, then? It was obviously a lot easier for you to throw me away than—”

“Of course it was! How can you even ask?” Goro looked at him again, again from that half-turned position. It was starting to piss Akira off.

“I can, because someone who was actually serious about me wouldn’t have fucked off for three years without a word!” He yelled back, fists clenched tight. “Why did you even come here? Why now? Got bored in your new happy life and decided to fuck with me a bit more?”

“I wanted to apologize.” Goro replied, once again quiet; and Akira shook in anger.

“Apologize.” he whispered, shaking his head. “You really… god, you’re just…”

His eyes closed; fists still clenched hard, he tried to control himself.

“Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t punch you in the face and throw you out of here, Goro.” Akira said, in a surprisingly even tone. He felt a humourless smile in Goro’s voice as the other replied.

“I do not think there is one for me to give.”

Akira’s eyes shot open once more as he glared at him; still turned to the side, with that damn sad smile on face, as if this was what he deserved… and it was, but the fact Goro knew it somehow pissed Akira off all the more.

“…why won’t you even face me, you coward?” he snarled and his hand shot forward, yanking Goro close; only for Akira’s eyes to widen and his hand to let go, as he took a few steps back.

Now he understood why Goro was avoiding his eyes; why he stood, turned to the side, not wanting to show him his face. Now he noticed the crutches the brunet tried to hide behind himself, ridiculously; now he _understood_ …

“God…” Akira whispered; previous anger forgotten. Something tore on his heart, and he realized he was crying again. Now he knew this was not a dream. In none of his dreams would his mind be this cruel to the man he loved as to imagine him like _this_ …

“Not going to hit a cripple, Akira?” Goro’s voice was still quiet, but mocking now; filled with self-loathing. Akira shook his head at him.

“You’re _unbelievable_.” he whispered, stepping closer once more. His hand rose, fingertips inches from the ugly, pink, shiny scars covering Goro’s left cheek as the brunet recoiled, looking away from him.

“ _Don’t_.”

Akira waited; waited for the one, crimson eye to look at him again, waited to see the fear and plea in it that he expected. The raven let out a soft, quiet breath and cupped Goro’s cheek; the feeling of his scars completely unfamiliar and yet the warmth against his palm feeling like it should; like something he had been missing for years now.

For just a moment, Goro stood still, trembling softly under his touch; and then, his head leaned into it, like a cat begging for comfort. Akira felt his heart break, and in the next moment, he was pulling him into his arms, hugging him tightly, hands twisting into the soft material of Goro’s coat as their cheeks pressed together; both wet with tears by then.

Slowly, Akira felt hesitant arms move up his back, returning his embrace with no less desperation; and felt Goro’s body shake and seize in his arms as sharp, choked sobs escaped him, as tears flew, wetting Akira’s shirt. He was crying as well, he knew that; but it felt more like letting the pain out rather than crying in misery. It felt like healing.

“What _happened_ to you?” Akira whispered, one, shaking hand moving up to thread through Goro’s hair, soft and light brown and exactly like he remembered them. “Where were you, Goro? Why didn’t you say something, why didn’t you let me know…?”

Akira could feel Goro take in a breath, readying himself to answer; only at that moment, they were interrupted. Soft paws running down the stairs made them slowly part, as did Morgana’s alarmed meow.

“Akira, everything’s okay? I think I heard yelling—”

Morgana stopped in his tracks, staring at the two of them; Goro groping for his crutches the moment Akira let him go, and the raven realizing Goro was in trouble and helping him up, guiding him, slowly, to his usual seat before sighing and walking back behind the counter. Morgana hopped onto the next seat, staring at Goro with wide eyes.

“…Akechi.” he said, finally, and Goro turned to give him a weak smile.

“It’s good to see you, Morgana.”

“You look like _hell_.”

“Thanks.” the brunet snorted quietly; Akira could feel his eye on him again as he busied himself making coffee. It felt good, to focus on something simple and mundane like that, and let his mind calm down. As he set the full cup in front of Goro, the brunet smiled gratefully, before stealing a glance at the empty one next to him; Akira still hadn’t cleaned up after Kobayashi.

“Alright… so tell me.” Akira said, watching as Goro’s eyes returned to him. He was pointedly ignoring the cup. “What the hell _happened_?”

Slowly and with long breaks to facilitate Morgana’s and Akira’s questions, Goro had told them. Of the shot that somehow missed any vital organs; of how Loki made him hide. Of the last healing item from the bunch Akira had given him. Of the explosions, of Ryuuji, of the blast that knocked him unconscious. Of the long months of drifting in and out of consciousness, and of the first real awakening, a year afterwards.

“So…” Goro continued, playing with his already almost empty cup. “Here I was; a year later, looking… like _this_. My body all scarred, bones and skin, barely any muscle remaining on it. Unable to raise my hand fully by myself, much less walk. As far as I knew, all of you thought I was dead, all of you settled back into your lives. It felt… I didn’t want to force myself onto you again. I didn’t want you to feel… _compelled_ to care for a wreck like me, because I knew you would.”

“So you figured letting me believe you were dead was better, huh.” Akira said; and though he wasn’t snarling or yelling anymore, his voice was still angry. Goro simply shrugged. Morgana sighed, bumping his head lightly against the other’s arm.

“Uh… Akechi, what’s up with… your eye, I mean, can you…?”

“First thing anyone asks me, it seems.” Goro smiled bitterly, but shrugged and replied. “I can’t see. They tried to fix it, at some point, but the damage was too extensive to do anything about it. I can discern between the presence and absence of light, somewhat; and I can sometimes see shadows of people or objects, though not clearly enough to recognize anything for what it is. My right eye is fully functional.”

“What about your legs? What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing, according to what the doctors tell me.” Goro responded again, with a rather twisted smile. “I couldn’t walk at first; then, gradually, as I gained some muscle, I was able to walk short distances, but it becomes incredibly painful after a while.”

“How so?” Akira asked quietly. His eyes never left Goro’s face. The brunet sighed softly.

“They tell me the cause of the pain is psychological trauma, rather than any physical injury. I tried to explain the pain I feel is hardly something I could or would like to think up, but…”

“So they think it’s psychosomatic?”

“Apparently.”

Akira hummed, leaning back and looking out through the door. It started raining again, he had noticed.

“…I have just one question.” the raven asked finally, still looking out the door. “Why now? You’ve said you wanted to come and apologize, which sounds like bullshit to me, but _fine_. Why now, though?”

“…Sae-san.” Goro said quietly, looking down into his cup again. “She visited me, few months back. Got wind of me not being dead and wanted to follow the clue right to the source. I have always had the biggest respect for her investigative skills. Well, anyway… She visited me, over at the clinic I was staying at. She told me what is happening with the former Phantom Thieves, that you’re back in Tokyo, studying here… that you have a boyfriend.” Goro fell silent, and Akira looked down at him, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And that was all very much none of your business.” he said, somewhat coldly.

“Yes, you’re right, of course.” Goro agreed, without as much as a moment’s hesitation. “Still… she has rekindled my desire to… make things right, so to say. I was finally getting well enough to stand and move around on my own, too.”

“I see.” Akira said, still quiet; and walked from behind the counter, to the door, opening them and finally flipping the sign. He hesitated, before closing the door again.

“…do you have somewhere to stay?”

“…not really.” Goro murmured, looking away. He was lying; and Akira felt his lips twitch upwards when he realized that, despite everything. “I can… find a place, so…”

“You can stay here for tonight.” Akira said, shaking his head. “I don’t mind… even just so that I know it wasn’t a weird dream in the morning.”

Akira cleaned up Leblanc and turned off the lights; and he helped Goro climb the steep stairs, the brunet’s crutches hoisted up in the raven’s other hand as he dragged Goro up. Why was he letting him stay, Akira had no idea. His emotions were in such a turmoil right now – wanting to remember and to forget, wanting his pain to disappear and wanting it to hurt more, so that it will always be there, no matter what. Goro’s warmth against him. His friend; his boyfriend; his _lover_ , broken and hurt, but back, finally, too late, but at the same time…

They let go of one another once they arrived upstairs, and Akira left Goro leaning against the low table by the stairs, looking around the attic. Admittedly, it has changed over these three years. It was cleaner and much less dusty, for one; and all the old junk disappeared, together with bags of coffee beans and old kitchen utensils. Now, the shelves were filled with books, notebooks, neatly folded clothes and little trinkets he has gotten from his friends. There were pictures, too; Goro recognized one they took in the brief time he was on the team, with all of them there. Akira’s makeshift bed has been replaced by a real one, and the desk he used to make infiltration tools on was now covered in documents, pencils, an old laptop and few empty snack-wrappers. Akira pulled a spare blanket from the drawer under his bed and was looking for spare sheets as Goro sat heavily on the couch, trying to ignore the growing pain in his legs. Morgana watched him for a while, and then jumped onto the windowsill and pawed the window open, disappearing outside.

Perhaps he thought they needed privacy. Really, neither of them knew if they should be happy for it right now or wishing the cat came back.

“…won’t your boyfriend be mad?” Goro found himself saying, watching as Akira’s form stilled over his bed. He knew he shouldn’t continue, and yet he couldn’t help himself. It was like poking a hurting tooth.

“I mean… you’re letting another guy sleep in your room. I wouldn’t want to—”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Akira said, quiet, hesitant; not knowing why was he even giving Goro this information.

“…so… the guy Sae-san spoke about… the man I saw in Leblanc, I…”

“You were spying for the right moment, weren’t you?” Akira snarled quietly, still not looking at him. Goro sighed.

“No. I saw you were… engaged with a customer and decided against bursting in and ruining whatever moment you two had.”

“Why, thank you.” Akira mumbled and then sighed, sitting down on the bed. Goro bit his lip; looking over at him.

“…you kissed him.” Goro murmured quietly, wondering if he was stepping too far. “And yet you say—”

“Yes, we kissed. And whether I do or do not have a boyfriend is, again, none of your damn business, Goro. And you know what? Honestly, I wish I _could_ be Shio’s boyfriend. He’s a good person. He’s kind, he’s smart, he’s caring… and I’m fairly sure he would not betray me, try to kill me, try to kill me again and then fuck off for three years without as much as a word!”

For a long moment, there was silence. Akira was breathing heavily again; his eyes shining with tears. Goro couldn’t look at him; and when he finally spoke again, his voice was trembling.

“…Akira, I…” he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I’m _sorry_. I can’t even… I knew I should have contacted you, deep down. My looks… my disability… I always knew these were all excuses. Some perverse way in which I could punish myself, make myself feel even a little bit better for what I did to you. I kept thinking… maybe if I’ll stay away, you’ll forget me. Maybe you’ll live your life happily without me there. But… this was all for me, after all. I understand that. And… if you found a boyfriend during this time, and one who cares for you… it’s not hard to find a better person than me. And… I want to be happy for you.”

Akira watched him; for a long time, again, neither of them spoke. And then, the raven sighed and hid his face in his hands; the tiredness brought by all the emotions swirling in his chest slowly overwhelming him.

“…I _mourned_ you.” he said, quietly. “Three years, I mourned you every single day. People hit on me, sure; and I couldn’t be bothered to as much as acknowledge it, because the void you left after yourself was too big to fill. I wanted it to end; I wanted to forget you, deep down. But… I never could. Because it felt that if I forget… no one else will remember.”

Akira took in a shuddering breath, not changing his position.

“So then… Shio showed up. And he was kind, and sweet, and understanding. I didn’t realize he existed until he told me he was a detective; he used to be a fan of yours, too, long ago. So we started talking; and then, few months ago, on the anniversary of the day I lost you, no less, he confessed to me. And… And I rejected him. He was everything I could have ever wanted, Goro, and he was willing to be even more than that… and I rejected him. Do you know why? Do you know what I told him, back then?”

“Akira…”

“I told him that I can’t be with him when I’m still in love with someone else. It wouldn’t be _fair_ to him; it wouldn’t be fair at all.” Akira smiled bitterly, shaking his head. “It’s not like he cared much. He never stepped over the boundaries I set, no, but oh, he kept trying. I guess he was really smitten with me, the poor guy. Today… I tripped. I tripped on the stool, and he caught me. That was all that did it; and god, it felt so good when he kissed me. To be loved, for the first time in three years, to be loved by someone…”

Akira looked up; watching as Goro’s single working eye locked onto him, painful melancholy filling it together with tears.

“…and I couldn’t do it. Because one stubborn, persistent ghost just wouldn’t let me go; and because the lips that kissed me and the arms that held me were just _not right_ … So _don’t_ … don’t you _dare_ thinking you have _any right_ to talk to me about what my boyfriend would like and would not like; and make some stupid comments about my fucking love life, because you know what? My boyfriend is the biggest asshole I know… and I wish, I _wish_ I could stop loving him. But I can’t. I still love him, Goro, and it hurts so much I can’t even explain it with words. So… the question now is…”

Goro was crying. Akira saw tears rolling down his cheeks, and wondered, briefly, why did it surprise him that both of Goro’s eyes could still cry.

“The question is, what about _your_ boyfriend, Goro?”

“…I wish _my_ boyfriend would stop loving me, too.” the brunet whispered, smiling through tears. “I wish he could be with someone who’s less of a selfish asshole. But if he’s still as much in love with me as I am with him… then maybe he’ll forgive me for wanting to be with him once more. However much time it takes. I can’t… be the pretty boy he fell in love with anymore. But maybe… maybe I can still be enough.”

“…come here, you moron.” Akira whispered, and his arms opened; and Goro forgot the pain, forgot the crutches. There was nothing in the world for him but Akira right now; nothing but Akira’s lips pressed against his own, nothing but their tears mixing on their cheeks. Nothing but Akira’s fingertips caressing his scars and whispering words Goro knew he didn’t deserve, but wanted so much, so desperately.

“…never leave me again.” Akira whispered, somewhere between desperate, wet with tears kisses.

“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you like my stories, you can find me on twitter [@mikan_writings](https://twitter.com/mikan_writings) and/or tumblr at [mikan_writings](https://mikan-writings.tumblr.com/)!


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